Killing Blows
by Lady Perditus
Summary: Because in the end, we'd rather fling ourselves off a cliff than let the enemy have the honor of striking the killing blow. Oneshot, T for paranoia.


**Summary: Because in the end, we'd rather fling ourselves off a cliff then let the enemy have the honor of striking the killing blow.**

**Author's Note: Its uh…kind of bad this was inspired by me…in Arathi Basin…*cough cough***

**I…might have done this? –Might-?**

**Disclaimer: I really don't own WoW. No, really, I don't.**

* * *

The sun beat down on the basin, the heat almost unbearable to the soldiers contained inside, those who were forced to compete over resources against the scrounging, mangy Horde.

A worgen marksman glared up at the sun as though he were talking to the heat itself, wondering why it was so _damn_ _hot in Arathi Highlands._ With a shake of his furry head, he and his faithful mastiff continued down the road to the Lumber Mill after not hearing from the group holding down the resources.

_"You there! Hunter!"_

_ Isaac flicked one of his wolf-like ears at the bark (no pun intended) from his officer. He turned his full attention towards the man in charge of his orders, and even his faithful mastiff, Otis, stopped panting and tilted his head towards the shouting human._

_ "Yes sir?"_

_ "You can move quickly, can't you?"_

_ The worgen perked up immediately. Maybe he'd finally be able to do something other than sit around the horrid stench of the horses in the stables all day._

_ "Aye, sir."_

_ "Good. I need you to go the Lumber Mill," the officer jutted his thumb to the east of them. With a silent growl of frustration, Isaac truly wondered just how stupid his superior officer thought he was. "and get a report of what's happening. Horde movements, possible attacks, and lumber productivity. Everything."_

_ With a salute and a sloopy grin Isaac straightened his back, proud to carry out actual orders instead of being bored out of his mind._

_ "Sir, yes sir!"_

_ "Dismissed. Get moving."_

The marksman was brought back to the present by a rustling in the bush. He came to a screeching halt and in less than a second he had whipped out his bow, loaded an arrow and was aiming it was the moving vegetation.

Otis took a defensive position, crouched down, a deep growling coming from the back of his throat. His hackles were raised and he slowly crawled in front of his master, ready to protect him with his life.

"...please…"

Still suspicious, Isaac lowered his bow, his arrow still notched. With a silent head gesture he and his pet took a few tentative steps closer to the bush.

"Lumber... …"

It could be nothing other than a Kaldorei, the worgen recognized the smooth female voice and light accent immediately. A few muttered words in Darnassian confirmed his uncertainties; the worgen had spent quite a number of months in Darnassus after having learned to control this…curse.

"What's happening at the Lumber Mill?" He asked, kneeling down and slightly dragging the wounded woman out of the bush so he could see her face.

"Horde," she gasped, and it was only then Isaac saw the gaping stomach wound pouring an unhealthy amount of blood.

"Horde are attacking _right now_?" He pressed, despite the fact they both knew she would be dead in a matter of minutes.

"Yes…send…help…" With a final, shuddering breath she closed her eyes and her body became still.

"Rest in peace, friend." He muttered before turning to Otis and dropping down on all fours. "Let's go."

* * *

Fight or flight? In the end that is the ultimate question, and when Isaac came across the bloody battle he wanted to turn tail and run. Instead, he pulled his lips back in a ferocious snarl rivaling that of the beast in his blood, glistening fangs as sharp as though he might pounce on his enemy and tear them to shreds.

Before the Horde could even register what was happening, at least two of them fell to the intensity and accuracy of Isaac's arrows. He began shooting left and right, placing traps with practiced skill, his mind whirling in complete battle mode.

_Shoot left, avoid frostbolt, silence the priest, BY ELUNE WATCH OUT FOR THAT BLADESTORMING WARRIOR._

But it was too late, the warrior had come out of her bloody trance and charged directly at the hunter. Isaac grunted as he was knocked to his back from the force, the green orc flashing her dangerous tusks at him in a cruel smirk.

The worgen could barely unsheathe his sword and bring it up before the orc slammed her axe down with the intent to crush his chest. The metal against metal resounded with a loud _CLANG!_ but could hardly be heard over the other sounds of battle. Isaac struggled against the strength of the warrior, his arms shaking under the exertion and pressure.

Panting, he bore his teeth, growled and brought up his powerful hind leg and lashed out at the orc's knee. She grunted before stumbling back two steps, giving Isaac just enough time to snatch his bow up and notched another arrow. He only managed to get one arrow shot that harmlessly bounced off the warrior's armor before she was within melee range again.

He let out an almost inaudible whistle and with a sharp bark his loyal mastiff leapt upon the orc from behind, causing the woman to fall to her knees. This time, Isaac took a few extra moments to aim so his arrows would actually cause harm.

He was quickly scanning the armor, looking for weak parts, damages, anything. He sharp eyes picking up on a small area between the shoulder and arm, where the linking plate was just a little weaker…weak enough for one of his arrows to pierce. Without hesitancy he drew the arrow back and fired. The projectile struck true, and the orc cried out in pain, holding her shoulder.

With a bellowing roar, her eyes turned a dark, murderous red. _That…can't be good…_

She ripped the arrow out much to the surprise of the marksman and with a surge of bloodlust and pain swung her axe up, cutting deeply into the neck of Isaac's faithful pet.

"NO!" the worgen screamed out as he saw Otis fall to the ground. He felt a piece of his heart ripped out—his connection to the wonderful, loyal, friend had been completely severed, leaving the hunter feeling empty. He almost fell to his knees right then and there, wanting to mourn the loss of his dear companion.

_I-I can't._

He tore his yellow wolf-like eyes from Otis' dead body and back to the murderer. He felt his own rage begin to torrent inside of him, like a raging storm just coming to its deadliest moments, the moments where the innocents would be harmed and their homes destroyed.

"NO!" Isaac began to rapidly fire his arrows, not noticing how most were falling to the ground, not noticing how close the orc was getting, not noticing how many Alliance bodies were also falling to the ground, not noticing how the Horde kept coming and coming…

_It was over._ The orc was now standing over him, blood dripping from her axe _(Otis' blood, _he seethed) barking out a sharp, cruel, laugh.

"Last words, mutt?" she smirked in a heavily accented Common.

Time seemed to slow down. Isaac saw the axe soaring down at him, but he refused to accept this. Would he really allow this monster the pleasure of killing him? Adding him to one of the numbers of killing blows she'd no doubted be bragging at the tavern about after the battle?

_No. _And if he couldn't take her down with him, dammit, he'd refused to be killed by her at all! He thrust his shoulder into her stomach, feeling the cold steel of the axe biting into his back instead of the original target his head. He stumbled to his feet, laughed at the orc, then disengaged, off the cliff, away from the warrior.

The worgen didn't see his life flash before him as he had heard in the stories when he was a child in Gilneas.

He felt anger, and sadness for all those he'd be leaving behind, his family, his friends, his fellow soldiers. He wanted almost laughed at the shocked expression on the woman's face as he flung himself to his own death. Deep in his gut, he began to feel fear at dying.

And then, he felt nothing at all.


End file.
